Every colour of the grey
by TrueHeartsGlow
Summary: Sasuke-centric. A personal insight on Sasuke's motives and thoughts.


Writer's Note: Sasuke-centric. I dedicate this to the fictional character of Sasuke. I guess I ought to write a lil bit about him, as the genuine Sasuke-fangirl I am. xD Well, jokes aside, this is a personal and subjective take of me on Sasuke's inner thoughts, feelings and reasons that led him to cut his bonds with team 7 and leave Konoha. Again, this is just a subjective take on his feelings and reasons, without myself trully thinking of things to be like that cannon-wise, since Sasuke gives little to no view to his personal thoughts, either way.

This is my first story that doesn't involve romance and is centered around one specific character.

With that said, enjoy. And don't bite. Hard.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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><p>I dont know how to feel. Perhaps my heart turned rusty..,perhaps it's reached its expiring date. A long time ago. And now it feels as if it keeps on beating out of pure habit, pumping blood mindlessly to my worn out body.<p>

They forgot to love me. And in my turn, I forgot how to love. Or perhaps I hadnt ever learned to.

I dont know. I dont remember anything more other than desperate cries of loneliness and fright, during the first few days which followed the tragic night.

Loud crazed whispers and silent helpless screams. I realised that my life , as I knew it, was over.

What made the loudest noise in the maddening silence that accompanied me faithfully the days after were my bonds...the bonds who fractured and tore apart and broke away into a million little pieces, slowly and violently, under the fronzen eyes of a god who didn't care.

An impersonal, indifferent god. Of a god who did not exist but still insisted on rulling people's lives with exceptional precision and consequense.

And maybe because of the sound of silence in the deathly quietness, the noise that a maternal bond made when extending and tearing apart, the echo that the dissapearance of a paternal bond that slowly but gradually lost its colours just like an old, dusty photo that was cracking under the weight of years of pride and death, left behind, the sound that loneliness made when the wind'd hit against the half-opened windows of the tragic place I called home, maybe then, somewhere, somehow, I realised that there was no god.

I dont remember something other than what I mentioned above. Perhaps I had felt love, once, back in time, I thought in pride. In order to feel pain, shed tears and forget,...I must have had felt love.

But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't remember how love felt.

They say that you know it in the way that a mother's waving her child parting for school off eyes smile, in the way that your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet theirs,..in the way you feel complete when your mouth shuts tightly around your favourite vegetable and its delicious juices cooly hug your tongue. In the way that you fear and worry over that certain someone...

But I couldnt feel any of that. And even if I had, at some point, now it was no more than mere dust lying quietly in a chest alongside my discarded memories.

I went to school, made friends and made enemies. I failed, succeded, I fell and rose. I felt envy, I felt indifference. But I remained a vessel filled with emptyness. Like a tightly locked box burried inside the biggest earthly depths with the key lying ,fallen, somewhere on the bottoms of the vast oceans, my heart refused to remember the feeling that it had once experienced.

Perhaps, I so foolishly thought, that feeling was the only one that could paint my days in colours different to white and black, the only that could make the defeaning silence inside me near bearable.

And then one day...one day like the others, I felt it. Like a frightened sparkle that shone fleetingly inside the darkless. Gradually, the sparkle became bolder, wilder and stronger.

And it warmed me up. But while it grew, I began to distinguish the forgotten, rusty fragments of memories and bonds, things which belonged in the past, in my tragic past, that kept fondly chasing after me. In my effort to run away, the pieces tore my skin and wounded my thoughts. The sparkle would become a flame and the flame would become a fire. It would burn. And once there was nothing but pebles of ashes lying around on the walls of my hurting mind, I'd be as empty as ever.

And while the sparkle burned slowly, I grew attached to _them_. Under the newly found light, the new bonds, that I had unknowingly made, made their existance known. The deeper they became, the bigger the sparkle turned. And I had to run away from it. I wouldn't survive the fire a second time. It would be death. Those bonds had to be burned...before life burned down on them.

I realised that I shouldnt give love the chance to rebirth inside me. If I lost love again, I'd lose myself. Permamently.

And so, for one more time, I did what I had grown accustoumed to, all those passed years. I escaped.I ran away from all those things that frightened and threatened my empty fashions.

But wherever I went, whatever distance I ran, the sparkle never faded.

It flickered, perhaps, a few times. And other times, it was so tiny that I thought it was gone - others, it just hid behind old memories and scattered fragments. But it never -completely- went off.

I never tasted love , but the sparkle remained inside me, to remind me of the possibility that had once been.

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><p>R&amp;R if you please.<p> 


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